Exchange Rate
by A Lone Howl
Summary: Ranger is forced to leave his wallowing over Stephanie's marrage to Morelli because of The Family. A deranged girl is Ranger's only connection to The Family, but can she talk? Rated T, but may be changed for later content. Ranger x OC
1. Chapter 1

Hey all, A Lone Howl here. This is just a little Ranger x OC story I've been sitting on for a while. I'm thinking about a Babe story next. This takes place after EOT.

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Janet Evanovich and St. Martin's Press. The idea behind the fanfic is mine though, so please don't plagiarize. "Woman from Tokyo" also belongs to Deep Purple.

So here we go!

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Ranger knocked back the last of his scotch and threw his shot glass at the wall. The glass shattered into a star-shape of the wall and then fell to the ground. It rang as it hit the ground, resting on another broken glass. Ranger's head had a slight buzz to it, making him cap the bottle to put it away.

His hair was unkempt, falling to his shoulders in a tousled wave. The dark circles under his eyes were purple and swollen. The room was dark; Ranger's half-lidded eyes made it even darker to the lone man in the room. He wore all black: black cargo pants, black boots, and a black shirt, and they were all wrinkled.

Images flashed through Ranger's head. He uncorked the scotch bottle, but they came before he even had a chance for a sip. He groaned as he saw Stephanie in a beautiful white dress. Even though the event was yesterday, it felt like a life-time ago for Ranger.

It was an outdoor affair, and it was pretty. Her mother and grandmother sobbed in joy while her father remained impassive. He gave his daughter a slight smile when he gave her away, but that was it. Ranger had remained in the shadows, but his Babe had found and caught his brown eyes. She gave him a weak smile, a hopeful smile, and Ranger had left. He watched again in the shadows as Joe Morelli and Stephanie Plum Morelli had their first dance. He was struggling to keep control, but he was weeping inside for his Babe was no longer his.

Mr. Plum had found him there, in his battle for control. Ranger politely shook his hand and commented on how happy he was for the couple. "She loved you." Ranger took a mental step back.

"Sir, I don't know about that-"

"She just didn't think you loved her back." Mr. Plum shook his head. "Then we'd have a son and law that would let her fly instead of keeping her in a cage." Ranger tried to protest, but Mr. Plum only walked away. He looked at Steph for a while; saw her smile into Joe's face with such happiness. Mr. Plum was wrong. He left, never saying a word to her.

Before Ranger could drink from the bottle to forget again, the door broke open. Ranger looked languidly in the direction on the door. Tank stood there, angry, ready to hurt some one. "Ranger, we have a lead-"

"No." Ranger was defiant. He was going to forget this, even if he had to kill his liver in order to do so.

Tank huffed, "We have a lead on The Family." The man with the bulging muscles was insistent. His eyes kept flashing to the door. "This may be the only chance we get!"

Ranger opened his mouth and then closed it. He thought about going, and then thought about drinking. Finally he heaved himself off the couch, nodding to Tank. "I'll be ready in a few. Just us." Tank nodded and rushed down stairs to get the car started.

In five minutes they were in the Turbo, heading down the packed streets of Trenton. The air was a light blue-gray, and the pollen count was high. In places were there were yards, flowering trees bloomed. Tank made turn after turn, heading into rougher parts of the city with Ranger, no one saying a word. Finally Tank pulled the car over. The two men in black could not believe what they saw.

"Merrily, merrily, see how I sing." The haunting melody came out of a girl that looked to be just over twenty. She had flat, honey-colored blonde hair and light blue eyes. Eyes that matched the color of the sky above her. She had a long-sleeve shirt on that was a size too big, and blue jeans that were noticeably too loose. Holding up the pants was a gun belt. She had a pair of skater shoes on and they made her feet fall flat on the pavement with a thunk. She looked utterly German-American normal, but a few things set that off kilter. Tattooed to the left side of her face were three tears. Two were black, on was red and larger than the other too. She held Uzis in her hands, and she was dancing. There were five bodies around her, all with gun wounds.

"Merrily, merrily, see how I kill." She smiled softly and the gang member against the wall. "Do you like my song?" She had a crazed, drug worn expression to her eyes. She laughed. "Merrily, merrily, see how I dance!" She laughed as she spun around three times before aiming the Uzis at the man and shot him. She smiled again, and then took on a look of concentration. Ranger and Tank got out of the car to hear her tallying something. "-48 gang members, so that makes a total of 162 kills!" Ranger and Tank exchanged looks. They slammed the doors of the car and she twirled around.

She skipped toward Ranger, a distinct extra-looseness to her stride. Her eyes glinted brightly. She stood a foot away from Ranger; her half-lidded eyes explored Ranger's body. "You're handsome." She stepped away. "Mother would disagree, Mother always disagrees." Tank looked at her. The way she said _Mother_, with such hatred and awe made him think. Was this the same Family?

"Does The Family disagree too?"

She laughed. "No, no! They're afraid of me too. They just nod and smile. Nod and smile…" Her voice took on a lilting quality. Ranger looked her over. She looked drugged, probably a narcotic.

"You want to take me," said the girl to the two men. She was smart, sharp even, in this drug haze. She saw the way they exchanged glances with se mentioned The Family and Mother. "You should take me. I'm dangerous!" She laughed again waving her Uzis in the air, firing of a round. It was then Ranger saw the word "Fool" tattooed onto her trigger finger of her left hand.

Ranger stole a glance at Tank. She would be of valuable assistance in finding The Family. If her outrageous claims were true, she could lead them not only to their man, but the queen bee of the operation. He debated only for a moment before nodding. Tank sent him a questioning look, but he ignored it. She laughed, put away her guns, and then clapped. She pranced to the truck and hopped into the back seat.

When they arrived at the Rangeman offices, she was dead asleep. The expression on the girl's face was sad and lost. Ranger lifted her up and carried her to his apartment.

She awoke much later. The smooth sheets under her tickled the skin left exposed. She was in a worn black tee shirt and silk black boxers. Her head felt soft and there was a distinct pounding to it. It sounded like the base line to "Woman from Tokyo" by Deep Purple. She took stock of her surroundings. She remembered the striking man that brought her into this bed and the bulky man that had talked quietly to him. They had questioned her briefly on The Family.

She saw the mocha-skinned man walk to her. He had a confidant stride, but something was throwing it off. "Where am I?" Her voice drifted. The high took a toll on her unless she was sleeping.

"You're in my apartment." His voice was low and seductive.

She rolled out of the bed. "I need clothes." He pointed to the bag by the closet and left. There was a pair of black cargos and a black v-neck shirt with the emblem "Rangeman." They had been made for someone a little taller than her. Her starved frame fit into the clothes, but made them too loose. Her bare toes poked out from under the pants. She walked into the adjoining bathroom. Her hair was a wreck; she doubted she could tame it at the moment. She found a hair tie on the sink and used it to tie her ragged blonde hair back, leaving her face-framing bangs out. _So a woman lives here…_The girl wondered what she looked like. She was probably drop-dead gorgeous. The blonde's face was splotchy and reddish. She frowned; she would need heavy duty foundation for that.

When she exited the bathroom, Ranger was sitting on the bed. She gave him a smile, and got his name. "What about yours?" The girl laughed.

"I am Blasa, number 945 of the 2nd tier. My code name is Katun." Her eyes were flat and she straightened out as she said this as if it was a mantra she repeated a thousand times each day. His eyebrows arched a fraction of an inch. She blinked. "I want Reeseseses." She noticed his lips twitch, as if he was thinking about laughing.

"You mean Reese's?"

"No. Reese's is singular. Reeseseses is plural." She nodded and her voice sounded commanding. His lips twitched again.

"I'll have Ella bring up some food." _Ella,_ she thought, _she must be that woman._ Ranger walked over to a box by the door, presumably and intercom. Blasa looked around. It was a nice, plush, if not sparse, apartment. Nothing stood out, so she simply sat on the bed, stock still.

The opening of the door startled her and she jumped straight off of the bed. Ranger thought about laughing again as Ella walked in. Blasa frowned and blinked twice. She looked to be in her fifties and was small, yet robust. She wore black and had on bright red lipstick. The woman looked questioningly at the girl on Ranger's bed, but the man said nothing, so Ella left.

Blasa timidly sat at the table. She changed masks, emotions, and façades quickly, showing almost every emotion she felt. Ranger quirked his mouth, "That's my housekeeper."

Ella was his _housekeeper_. She felt thoroughly stupid after that and ducked her head for a moment. Ranger made a quite rumbling she took for a chortle. She automatically raised her head as haughtily as she could. There were waffles in front of her. Waffles with real maple syrup. "Waffles…" She looked longingly at them before quickly eating them. Ranger looked on in disbelief as the girl devoured two waffles in less than three minutes. She smiled contentedly.

"Eat them fast enough?"

She narrowed his eyes at the comment. "You never know when your food could be taken from you!"

"Not here. I like fruit."

"There could be a giant squirrel or something!" She waved her hands around for emphasis. He only looked at her. This would have been much easier if she was still filled with narcotics.

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You like so far? Don't worry; she won't be as _silly_ as it goes on. She's going to develop quite well, I hope. R&R, if you please. Otherwise I'll get lazy again and never finish. . Any help on the piece's syntax would be, well, helpful!


	2. Chapter 2

Wow. A lot of people want me to make this a babefic. I plan on making a babefic NEXT. Anywho, thanks for making positive reviews!

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Janet Evanovich and St. Martin's Press. The idea behind the fanfic is mine though, so please don't plagiarize.

Here's the next chaptèr:

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Ranger decided to change the subject. "Blasa," his eyebrows quirked a bit at the blonde. She looked up and sighed.

"You're saying it with too heavy of a tongue. It's BLA-sh(z)a. People _always _get it wrong though, don't worry." She rubbed her hands together under the table while looking around. The apartment was rather open, but with sparse furniture. It seemed to empty but Blasa soon realized why. There was no character in the room. It had no photo albums, no framed grade school pictures, or even any scented candles. Blasa turned back to Ranger, "You are a very boring person."

He only gave her an odd look. "Look at this place; it's so… so… _impersonal_! In italics!" Ranger looked like he was thinking about laughing. She sighed and threw up her hands, frustrated. "You are a strange man."

"Look at yourself." His voice was deep and amused. She did look down. Her arms had a few deep pink scars on them. There was one on her left arm was jagged and ran from her shoulder blade all the way to six inched above her elbow. On her right arm there were two clean, pink scars. One was on her forearm and the other was on her bicep. The "Fool" tattooed on her finger seemed to become blacker and darker right in front of her. She had many other scars and burns on her body. Damage that she wanted to let go of but haunted her every time she moved, looked, or danced. Her body creaked when it rained. Her soul was pushed into submission.

"I guess I am an odd ducky." She laughed shakily and put her hand behind her head, embarrassed.

"What happened."

"Nothing." She stood up suddenly and almost knocked the table over. She scrambled to make sure it did not fall. He watched her in a stony silence.

"We're going to have to make you talk if you don't say anything soon."

"Dear, I don't care by now. I'll give myself a heart attack if you try." As his eyebrows went up a fraction, Blasa quirked a wry smile.

"Can you?"

"Do you really think I'm the running type?" Ranger figured she was lying, but you never know.

"So," she started, "I need clothes that fit." She held her arms out and twirled around a few times, smiling blissfully.

"I need info." His gaze was unwavering; it seemed to go right to her soul. She frowned at him.

"You ruined my twirl! I had a perfectly good spin going on there and you ruined it!" She flung her arms to her sides and pouted. Ranger cracked a fleeting smile.

"I'll make you a deal. You can stay here, provided you work, and you give me information." She tilted her head upwards and stroked her chin as if she was deep in thought.

"I don't need a salary, just clothes, food, and a place to live. Make it a desk job; I'm good with computers. I assume you'll use your men to get my biography?" Ranger nodded and Blasa flashed a bright smile. She flung her hand out and he fluidly took it in his hand. They shook hands, equal in power.

"C'mon. If I have to go to the mall, we might as well go while I have some down time." Ranger's voice was deep, almost worn sounding. She smiled again, quickly grabbing the shoes the mercenary found for her. He led the way to the elevator and she hoped in. She bounced around a little before settling down. Ranger looked at her and she simply blinked at him. The blink clearly said, "Huh, wha?"

"Is this blinking thing going to continue?" She smiled a big toothy smile and closed her eyes.

When they got to the garage level, the blonde stepped out of the elevator first. She smiled a sort of awed, happy smile at the cars. He quirked his mouth at her. She really _was_ an odd duck. She seemed like with every emotion or outburst she had, she was trying to shout over the things her past life was screaming at her.

Ranger walked over to a Turbo, clicked it open, and got in. Blasa scurried in next to him and sat into the comfy seats. The dash board lit up when Ranger turned the ignition on. She hurriedly started examining everything she could. The trip was spent like that, she was examining the car and he drove in his zone. The car had a beautiful feel to it. The seats were butter-soft and the car had a smooth ride. The look on Ranger's face was _nonexistent. _ He simply drove in his zone; the master of his kingdom. The Jersey scenery was amazing. Blasa never tired of the trees that zoomed by her when she was on the turnpike.

They pulled into the Macy's parking lot and Blasa got out, feeling mellifluous. She had a small smile on her lips and hummed a tune as she went into the store. "Don't go on a spending spree." He sent her a look that said _I mean it!_

"Oh don't worry. I came from a low-budget family. I can keep it under $150." She smiled a far away smile at the people who past by them.

The mercenary looked at her for a minute. "Make it $350." Before the slight girl could protest, he reached for his wallet and pulled four bills. "Use all of it. Or else." His eyes flashed a playful glint. "The uniform is black. All black." He left her there and went back into the car. She smiled a bemused smile before traipsing through the store. She picked out two pairs of cargo pants, one pair of boot cut jeans, and two pairs of low riders. She picked out three stretchy tees, on sale, and two long sleeved shirts.

The cool fall weather was encroaching on Jersey, promising giant piles of leaves and huge snowstorms. It also promised an upturn in sales for the car washing industry. Nothing ruins a car's paint job like salt for melting the ice.

She picked out a few bras, and then a couple showy pairs of underwear. You never know. She went over to some of the cheaper jewelry and grabbed two packs of silver bangles. She went to the register, paid, but still had $150 left. She thought for a minute before heading over to the "fancier" clothing area. She picked out some pinstripe pants, a white blouse, and jacket that were on sale. _What do you know, _she thought,_ buy one get one free! _She looked long and hard a gray skirt and jacket set. She grimaced and then picked it up. $39.99. She saw a simple, black cocktail dress for the same price and picked it up. The last thing she looked at was the makeup counter. She grabbed black eyeliner, and two palettes of eye shadow. A tube of concealer, a bottle of foundation, and she was on her way. She paid with the last of the bills and marched outside. She was thoroughly exhausted. Shopping was fun, but she couldn't do it all day; it just wasn't her thing.

The black car sat far away at the end of the lot. She knitted her brows together for a moment, let out an impatient sigh, and walked double time to the car. She threw open the back door, closed it, and then climbed into the front. Ranger was on the phone, talking in short terse sentences. She looked out the window at the people passing buy. It was almost five 'o clock. Mothers were pulling young children into their cars while teenagers stomped far ahead of their mothers, as if they were _aching _to be away from these horrible people who gave birth to them without their say-so. She laughed at this thought and Ranger looked at her. "Just people watching!" He shook his head minutely and started the car. "Oh!" she said, perking up. She reached deep into one of her pockets and pulled out three pennies. "I couldn't find anything for three cents." He sighed and took the coins. "I'm a handful!" Her voice proudly rang through the car.

Ranger nodded, "That you are." The drive home seemed so short to her. At one point she saw a sign reading "Morristown" and she jumped up.

"I used to live by there!" Her exclamation startled Ranger and he looked at the sign. He memorized the name.

"You're a Jersey girl?" It seemed like there was an unspoken _Too?_ in the sentence.

"Of course! You've obviously never seen me run in heels." This is a well known trait of proud Jersey girls… and cross dressers too.

The rest of the ride was silent. She could only imagine Ranger searching for her birth records at the nearby hospitals. _You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread man!" _ This was going to be a fun game of cat and mouse. She laughed to herself. When they pulled into the lot, the bulky man from the first time was there. He looked at her in a funny was as she grabbed her bags from the back. Tank and Ranger exchanged a glance. Tank's was questioning while Ranger's was tired. Blasa, however, marched right up to him. She shifted her bags around so she could stick out her right hand. "Blasa." He voice was informative. He repressed a smile and clasped her hand.

"Tank." She nodded and flashed him a smile before tromping off to the elevator and waiting inside. She knew when men needed to talk. "She's a funny one." Tank looked at her with a mix of awe and pride. She was resiliant.

Ranger nodded. "Is she ever." He gave him an outline of the day, and the town he should search before joining Blasa in the elevator. It was quiet; both people seemed to be in their own worlds. The elevator doors opened and Blasa entered the apartment and entered the kitchen. Ella had recently put dinner down and it smelled great. Pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans. She also saw a slice of cake by, what she assumed was, her plate. She jumped up and clapped before sitting down in her seat. She tapped her feet for a minute, before looking back at Ranger.

He was leaning against the door frame, her shopping bags were thrown haphazardly there only a minute before. "Well? We have to pray!" He looked at her oddly before settling down next to her. She grabbed his hands and he tensed under them. "Dear God, Bless this food, thank you for this day. Amen!" And with that she dug into her food, quickly as ever.

"You had to watch your meals in Russia. Am I right in saying people often took them?" She stopped, ate the last of the mashed potatoes and looked up.

"Of course!" She blinked at him. And blinked again. And again. Then his eye twitched. "Ha ha!" Blasa pointed at him. "I got emotion!" She did a little dance in her seat before standing up. She dropped her dished off into the sink. "Now," she said, her hands on her hips, "I need to take a shower. Is that all right?" He nodded and she traipsed off. The shirt and boxers she had used last night were on the bed and she gladly picked them up.

The shower reached a nice hot temperature before she lept in. The shower gel smelled great, and she used as much as she could without feeling guilty. It smelled just like Ranger, who not only looked great, but had a _Look at me, I could steal you women away from your boyfriend OR girlfriend!_ mistique. She towel dried her hair to the best of your ability, before slipping on the boxers and shirt. She opened up the door and was blasted by the cold.

There he was: Ranger. He was laying in the bed with and undershirt and cargos on. His legs were crossed and his socked feet her relaxed at a 40 degree angle. His boots and shirt were discarded at the side of the bed. He was working on his laptop and it sat so perfectly across his hipbones. She unabashedly stared at him for a while, only stopping after he coughed. He was off to the left side so she climbed into the right side; muttering a quick "G'night." He made an odd sound so she looked up.

"You're in my bed."

"Yeah, so? I bet a lot of women have been." He gave her a look.

"Babe."

"Hey! Don't me that! I have a name; an identity! I am not 'Babe!' I am Blasa!" He chortled at the determination and sternness burning in her eyes.

"You know what could happen."

She only shook her head. "I would scream and remember a place where I can't go back. And I will bleed. And I will leave." She then curled herself into the sheets and faded off into dream land. She faintly remembered his laptop closing and the shower turning on. All she really knew was that he was there for the nightmares.

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Well peeps, I hope she wasn't _too_ emo-esque. Sorry I took so long! See you next time! R&R for some motivation. Seriously. Those who put me on their watch list pushed me to write this, so thanks!


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